


Keep Kevin Safe

by mariadperiad20



Series: Foray into B99 [16]
Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Happy Ending, Hurt Jake Peralta, Hurt/Comfort, Jake & Kevin Bonding, Minor Jake Peralta/Amy Santiago, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-02-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:20:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22625461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mariadperiad20/pseuds/mariadperiad20
Summary: “Stay here, lock the door.” Jake instructed, pulling his police badge out from under his jacket so that it was visible, “Don’t open it for anyone except me.”Jake is paying a surprise - and frankly unwelcome - visit to Kevin, at the exact time a perp has decided to kill Raymond Holt's husband. Whump and father-son bonding ensues.Request fic!
Relationships: Kevin Cozner & Jake Peralta, Kevin Cozner/Ray Holt
Series: Foray into B99 [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1320137
Comments: 128
Kudos: 1147





	1. Chapter 1

Jake sauntered into Kevin’s office with a grin firmly in place. Holt had mentioned that Kevin had been acting off, and Jake was determined to get to the bottom of it. Interfering with Holt’s personal life had never backfired on him once ever, after all.

Jake awkwardly tapped a rhythm on his visitors badge, wandering around the room while waiting for Kevin to show up. The receptionist had told him that Professor Cozner would be arriving in a few minutes, and Jake was bored.

The room was relatively bare - since Jake didn’t bother looking at the books, he knew he didn’t have a chance of understanding them - save for a couple photos and trinkets. Jake tilted the photos to get a better look at them - Holt and Kevin at what was presumably their wedding, and one of Cheddar. The trinkets looked important, so Jake didn’t touch them.

“Peralta? What are you doing here?”

Jake spun around with a grin.

“Kev! What a coincidence, running into you here.”

“In my office. Where I work.” Kevin supplemented.

“Wow, you work here? I had no idea.” Jake grinned, shoving his hands into his pockets to try to avoid fiddling with his visitor badge.

“What do you want? I’m rather busy.”

“To talk.” Jake shifted from foot to foot. Kevin was looking at him, a mix of annoyance and resignation on his face. Jake would consider it to be what his resting face was, except it only was when it came to him.

“Look, Kevin,” Jake bit the inside of his cheek, turning his face slightly before facing him full on. “Holt’s been worried about you, and he’s kinda… taking it out on the squad. He made Charles cry, which isn’t fair. Only Rosa’s supposed to do that.”

“I see. And you went behind his back to bring this up to me?”

“Yes.” Jake smiled awkwardly, lip tucking under his front teeth.

Kevin sighed, rubbing at his temple, eyes closed.

“This is beyond inappropriate. You should leave.”

“I already tried to talk to Holt, but he wouldn’t say anything!”

“Then maybe you should stop trying to figure it out. This isn’t a case of yours.”

“You two are… okay, right?” Jake asked, twisting his wedding band around on his finger. A new nervous habit he’d picked up, it seems. “I just… I don’t know if you know this, but, well, I _kinda_ see Holt as a father figure.”

Kevin scoffed. “I was aware.”

Jake nodded, “Yeah, I figured. It’s just… he’s sorta my dad, and I want you guys to be okay.”

Kevin’s face seemed to soften minutely. “Peralta,” He said slowly, “I understand your concern. However, Raymond and I are… taking steps to rectify the situation.”

“But what steps?” Jake asked, “I don’t want-” There was a crashing sound from outside, and Jake cut himself off.

Kevin opened his mouth to speak and Jake held up a hand, eyebrows furrowing, listening intently.

There was another crash, and a bit of yelling. And then, silence.

Jake made eye contact, and jerked his head towards the far wall. Kevin obligingly went back against the wall, picking up an enormously heavy book without so much as batting an eye.

Woah, Kevin was buffer than he looked.

Jake didn’t have time to question it, instead inching to the door and carefully peering around it, gun drawn.

He didn’t see anyone in the hallway, and pulled back into the room, pulling off his visitor badge and shoving it into his pocket.

“Stay here, lock the door” Jake instructed, pulling his actual badge out from under his jacket so that it was visible, “Don’t open it for anyone except me.”

Kevin nodded brusquely. Jake tossed him his phone. “Text Terry or Holt, get backup. Might not need it.” The ‘hopefully’ was left unspoken, but Kevin clearly picked up the message. He started pressing buttons - Jake always kept his phone on silent - as Jake edged out the door, closing it behind him.

Surely enough, he heard the click of the latch, and he let out a slow breath.

It might be nothing. Student pissed about their grade, someone knocked over a filing cabinet, something stupid.

Everything was silent. Jake’s grip on his gun tightened, and he made his way down the hall towards the receptionist, checking through the open office doors as he went.

He heard the sound of a door opening, and swung around to face it.

A professor looked at the gun with wide eyes. Jake let go of one hand, picking up and showing him his badge, then putting a finger to his lips and pointing for him to go back inside. The professor quickly closed the door, and Jake put his hand back onto his gun.

Jake crept down the hall, and heard the sound of another door opening. He turned around, ready to tell another professor to get inside, and came face-to-face with the barrel of a gun.

“Drop it.” The man said.

Jake set his face into a careful neutral, hesitating for half a second before raising his hands, slowly crouching and putting his gun onto the floor.

The perp kicked him in the face.

Jake fell back, breaking his fall with his arms. He got to his feet quickly, feeling a trickle of blood start to run down the side of his face.

The perp leveled his gun squarely on Jake’s face, kicking his own weapon further down the hall. Jake watched it go with a sinking feeling in his chest.

“Walk.” The man gestured with the gun down the hall, back towards where Jake had come from.

Jake kept his feet planted firmly where he stood. “Normally you have to tell me your name first.”

“Don’t play games with me.” He growled back. “Now move.”

“Okay, okay,” Jake said obligingly, keeping his hands carefully in the air. “Let’s just go outside, okay? We can talk this out, no one has to get hurt.”

“I’m not here for you.” The perp spat, “Just walk.”

Jake carefully cast his gaze around the hallway as he slowly walked down it. He purposefully avoided looking at Kevin’s door, not wanting to draw attention-

“Here. Professor Cozner.” The man said. “Open the door.”

Jake felt his blood turn to ice.

“What do you want with him? He’s some lame teacher.” Jake said casually.

“Not your fucking concern. Now, open the door, or I can open it over your dead body.”

Jake turned back to the door, grimacing. He slowly brought down one hand, and made a token effort of twisting the knob. Thankfully, it was still locked.

“It’s locked.” Jake said loudly as he turned around, hoping Kevin could hear him. He had to keep Kevin safe, at all costs. He was a civilian, he was a fucking _civilian_. “Why don’t you put down the gun-”

Said gun whipped across his face, and Jake fell against the door, hard. He groaned in pain, hand coming up to press against his now even-more-bleeding temple.

“Don’t-” Jake raised his hands placatingly, “He’s a civilian. If you need a hostage, I’m a much better choice. Cop, see?” He pointed to his badge.

“Unless you know Raymond Holt, I’m not interested.” The perp spat.

“I do.” Jake said immediately, “He’s my Captain.”

“The 78th precinct?” The man asked.

“The 99th.” Jake corrected, eyebrows furrowing. Either the guy was delusional or it was a test.

“Hm. Well, then, I’ll have two hostages then, won’t I?” He asked, gun still fixed on Jake’s face.

Jake swallowed hard, keeping his back pressed against the door. He hoped that Kevin had gotten backup, and that he wouldn’t open the door for anything. Or anyone.

“Tell him to open the door.”

Jake shook his head. “No.”

The man’s face contorted. He shouted through the door. “Open the door, Cozner! Or I’ll shoot the cop.”

“ _Don’t_ Kevi-!” Jake began, before a fist punched him in the ribs. He doubled over, gasping for breath, trying not to cry out. He didn’t want to make Kevin feel guilty for keeping the door closed like he was _supposed_ to-

Jake heard the sound of the door latch unlocking.

“No!” Jake shouted as the door started to open in, turning away from the perp to the door, grabbing the handle and trying to pull it closed. “Close it, Kevin, I’m not worth-”

A well-aimed kick to the back sent Jake stumbling into the room, crashing onto the floor with a bang. Jake tried to turn over, but another kick to the head had him taken down for the count. Jake tried to struggle to his feet, but his limbs felt heavy, and the world seemed to be spinning a bit more than usual.

Still, Jake had a job to do. He couldn’t let Kevin get hurt. He had to keep Kevin safe. He slowly clambered to his feet, using the desk to pull himself up, knocking over the photo of Cheddar as he did so.

The entire side of Jake’s face felt sticky, and he clutched onto the desk hard as the world swayed around him.

When Jake’s eyes finally refocused, he felt his heart sink, if possible, even further. Kevin was now being held at gunpoint, hands up. His gaze was set on the man in front of him, not so much as glancing in Jake’s direction.

It seemed the perp had entirely forgotten Jake’s presence, and Jake tried to see if there was a way he could disarm him.

Of course, no matter what he did, it risked Kevin getting shot. Getting _killed_.

Jake grimaced, straightening up and instantly regretting it as the world tilted dangerously.

The man was monologuing, but Jake couldn’t focus on the words. Just trying to think was making his head pound, well, even harder than it already was.

But then the gun was being raised to Kevin’s face, and the perp's tone changed. Kevin took a half-step back, and Jake realized that something really, really bad was about to happen.

“Hey!” Jake slurred, “You’re after him ‘cause of Holt, right?” The perp seemed to hesitate, turning to face Jake. “Killing Kev isn’t gonna… get back at him,” The act of speaking was exhausting. “They don’t even love each other.” Jake said, clinging onto the desk for support, “They’ve been fighting. Going to get divorced.”

Kevin’s eyebrows were raised so high they were indistinguishable from his hairline.

“Hurting Kevin is just doing Holt a favor, really.” Jake shrugged, “Holt’d be glad to be rid of him.” He stared at Kevin meaningfully, trying to convey his message to him as blood dripped into his eye.

The man grimaced. “If that’s true, then I’ve wasted a trip.” He turned back to Kevin, who quickly morphed his face back into one of annoyance.

“Of course it’s true. We’ve been fighting nonstop for weeks.” Kevin said firmly. “He'd be overjoyed if someone got rid of me.”

Jake blinked slowly, daring to let go of the edge of the desk and approach the perp, whose grip on the gun had lessened slightly as his perfect plan seemingly fell apart.

“But yet, here it is. Raymond bringing home even _more_ of his problems from work. Everything he does is about his job, even our relationship.” Kevin glanced at Jake, before refocusing hard on the man’s face, not wanting to give him clues. The slight twitching of his fingers in his raised hands was the only indicator that Kevin wasn’t being truthful.

The perp's gun dipped even lower. “That’s not fair! This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen!”

Jake saw the grip on the gun loosen even further, and lunged forward, tackling him to the ground hard, and wresting the gun away from him.

The world was spotting practically to black, and Jake threw the gun haphazardly away from him, hearing a smashing sound from wherever it landed.

Oops. Might have broken something.

Someone - probably Kevin - pulled Jake back with his jacket collar, tugging him off.

Jake blinked rapidly, wanting to have time to react before the perp got back up and got the gun again, but everything was nauseatingly off and Jake was forced to close his eyes, or risk throwing up.

“Close your eyes, Jake.”

Kevin’s voice was sharp, clear.

Jake tilted his head towards the sound achingly slowly, trying to force his eyes to focus.

Oh, good. Kevin had the gun, and was currently shoving it into a drawer, locking it shut.

Jake tried to tell him good job, but all that came out was a slurred moan of pain.

Kevin frowned. “I said close your eyes. You’re disoriented.”

“The perp-” Jake tried to explain, making to get to his feet.

Kevin’s hands were firmly pressing him back down onto the floor.

“He’s unconscious. Hit his head on the bookshelf. We’re safe.”

Jake nodded, and then instantly regretted it as the world tilted again.

When it stopped spinning, he had moved. Instead of being sprawled on the floor, he was sitting up, back against the front of Kevin’s desk.

Kevin was kneeling in front of him, hands holding Jake’s head still as he inspected his head injury with a critical eye.

“Peralta,” He said slowly, “How many fingers am I holding up?”

Jake squinted. Everything was still moving. “I don’t know.”

For some reason, that seemed like a bad answer.

Kevin grimaced, and sat back. “I contacted the precinct already. They’re on their way. I instructed them just now to bring an ambulance as well.”

“Gonna take a trip. On the wee-woo machine.” Jake said, not daring to nod again.

“The… yes.” Kevin said carefully.

“The perp!” Jake said suddenly, moving to get up. Kevin’s hand pressed against his chest.

“He’s taken care of. I told you already, he’s unconscious.”

“Oh.” Jake frowned. “The bookshelf, right. I remember now.”

“Peralta,” Kevin reached out, placing his hand on Jake’s shoulder. “You saved my life. Thank you.”

“Hm? Well, yeah, of course.” Jake shook his head slightly, edge of his mouth curling up into a bemused smile. “Why wouldn’t I?” Then, his face fell. “You and dad aren’t actually getting a divorce, are you?”

“No, absolutely not.” Kevin shook his head firmly. “I was merely following your lead, as it were.”

“Cool, cool cool, cool, no doubt, no doubt.” Jake replied. “But… then, why were you fighting?”

Kevin sighed, grimacing slightly. “It’s… complicated. I want to try to introduce Raymond to my family again, while his _insists_ that it will end… like the last time we attempted it.”

“What happened last time?” Jake asked, lifting one leaden arm to touch at his aching temple. Kevin pushed it back down gently.

“My parents blamed Raymond for turning me gay with his, quote, “magic genetalia”. I want to give it another chance, he does not want to risk being insulted by them.”

“Are you sure that’s why he doesn’t want to? Maybe it’s ‘cause he doesn’t want you being told that you’re redeemable from gayness or whatever.”

“What?” Kevin asked.

“I mean like… with Amy, I was upset that they were making fun of me and stuff, but what really sucked was that they kept saying that she could do better, or that she would realize she was making a mistake. Maybe it’s just he doesn’t want that. Or something.”

Kevin blinked at Jake, seemingly at a loss for words.

“NYPD!” Came a shout from the doorway. Jake didn’t dare turn his head, for fear that he would throw up all over Kevin. There was already blood on his jacket, which Jake was sure was fancy or something. It had those elbow patch things, so it must be classy.

Jake grimaced as a new throb of pain ached across his head as movement began to occur around the room. He closed his eyes against the spinning, and felt Kevin move from in front of him, hand on his shoulder changing its grip. His own hand shot out and blindly caught Kevin’s jacket.

“Don’t go.” Jake panted, eyes screwed shut. “I can’t tell what’s happening.”

“I’m right here, Jake.” Kevin said firmly, pressure on his shoulder never wavering.

“Kevin! Peralta!”

Jake heard the Captain’s voice, loud and ringing. Jake grimaced, swallowing hard against the cry of pain at the sound that was trying to force its way out of his throat.

“Raymond.” Kevin spoke, even as he didn’t move from Jake’s side. “I am unhurt. Jake has sustained several injuries.”

“Dadptain.” Jake tried to speak, but the movement made his entire face hurt. The little bit of adrenaline he had still in his system that had been letting him function was fading fast, and everything was getting fuzzier. Including the voices around him. He let out a moan as he felt Holt tilt his face to the side, probably to inspect the injury.

“Field is secure. Officer down.” Holt spoke, presumably into a radio but Jake couldn’t open his eyes to tell, eyelids now far too heavy to even attempt it.

Jake felt his grip on Kevin’s jacket tighten.

“Are you hurt?” Jake asked, “Why’re they getting medics?”

“For you, Jake.” Kevin said softly.

“But what about you? Safe?”

“I’m safe, Jake.”

Jake heard more movement, and then there were hands on him, trying to move him.

Jake’s fingers dug into Kevin’s jacket even tighter.

“No, no, I have to protect, I have to-” He tried to choke out, “Kevin, need to keep him safe, I can’t go, I need to…” Jake broke off into a groan of pain as his head tilted back.

“Jake, I’m safe.” Kevin’s voice came through.

Jake vaguely understood what it meant, but he couldn’t seem to make his hand let go.

“Jake.” Another voice spoke. Holt’s. “You did an excellent job. Kevin is safe, he’s with me. The perp is secured. Everything is fine.”

“Kevin.” Jake forced his eyes to open, ignoring the way the entire universe’s worth of stars were splattered across his vision.

He saw Kevin looking at him, open concern on his face. He had some blood on his jacket, but that was Jake’s, not his own. Holt was standing next to him, and the perp was gone.

Kevin was safe.

Jake nodded, finally letting go of Kevin’s jacket, his grip having progressively gotten weaker and weaker. Kevin could have simply pulled himself out of Jake’s grip, but had chosen not to. There was probably something meaningful behind that, but thinking made Jake’s head hurt.

“Safe.” Jake said simply, before his eyes slipped closed again.

Kevin was safe. Jake could rest, now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Total Request:_ if your taking requests; maybe Jake is up to his usual shenanigans and goes to see Kevin at the uni one day and they both end up taken hostage??
> 
> Thank you for your request! :D
> 
> I had fun with this fic, Jake angst is always a pleasure to write <3


	2. Chapter 2 - Kevin POV

Kevin was having a decidedly sub-par day. Raymond had been determined to convince him not to go to his parents’ house. He refused to even _consider_ that maybe they had changed. Raymond was lucky, he had found a surrogate family with his precinct.

Kevin had no such situation.

All he wanted was the _chance_ to have a family, outside of Raymond.

But he had rejected it, and now they were… in disagreement.

Kevin stormed back to his office - he was striding, not walking, a clear sign of his distress. Normally, he would never engage in such an outward display of his displeasure, but… well, he was at a bit of loose ends with himself.

He decided to focus on his work, put his mind off of Raymond for a bit. He could come back with a fresh look - and, hopefully, have given his husband the time to change his mind. When it came to his husband, he wasn’t nearly as stubborn as Kevin himself, so it was rare to see Raymond so steadfastly opposed to him.

Kevin opened the door to his office, and felt a sigh escape his lips.

Detective Jake Peralta was standing in front of his desk, fingers tapping.

“Peralta? What are you doing here?” Kevin asked sharply, entering his room. Just what he needed, one of Raymond’s detectives around.

Jake turned to face him, that cheeky grin on his face. And, interestingly, a visitor’s badge pinned to his shirt. Unofficial business, then.

“Kev! What a coincidence, running into you here.”

“In my office. Where I work.” Kevin said coldly.

“Wow, you work here? I had no idea.” Jake grinned wider.

“What do you want? I’m rather busy.” Kevin walked past him, placing his books and stack of paperwork onto the table.

“To talk.”

Kevin felt a flash of annoyance. It was highly unlike Raymond to send one of his detectives out, given his separation of personal and professional - which, frankly, wasn’t entirely accurate anymore, as Raymond himself had admitted to the squad being a family in his eyes.

“Look, Kevin,” Jake looked distinctly uncomfortable. “Holt’s been worried about you, and he’s kinda… taking it out on the squad. He made Charles cry, which isn’t fair. Only Rosa’s supposed to do that.”

“I see.” Kevin did not see. “And you went behind his back to bring this up to me?”

“Yes.” Jake smiled awkwardly, lip tucking under his front teeth.

Kevin sighed again, rubbing at his temple, eyes closed. This was going to be a hassle, he could feel it already.

“This is beyond inappropriate. You should leave.”

“I already tried to talk to Holt, but he wouldn’t say anything!” Jake explained, as if that justified anything.

“Then maybe you should stop trying to figure it out.” Kevin shot back. “This isn’t a case of yours.”

“You two are… okay, right?” Jake asked awkwardly. Kevin opened his mouth to speak, but then noticed Jake twisting his wedding ring, and fell silent, softening slightly - although he would never show it. The detective clearly had a lot on his mind.

“I just… I don’t know if you know this, but, well, I kinda see Holt as a father figure.”

Kevin scoffed. “I was aware.”

Jake nodded quickly, looking embarrassed, “Yeah, I figured. It’s just… he’s sorta my dad, and I want you guys to be okay.”

“Peralta,” Kevin said slowly, weighing his words carefully, “I understand your concern. However, Raymond and I are… taking steps to rectify the situation.”

“But what steps?” Jake asked, “I don’t want-”

There was a sound in the distance, and Jake’s mouth snapped shut, eyebrows furrowing and body tensing slightly, alert.

Kevin began to ask Jake if he had come alone, but Jake’s hand silenced him.

His husband was a cop. He understood the implication.

There was another crash, and the sound of yelling. It sounded like the receptionist’s voice, but it quickly fell silent.

Jake fixed his gaze on Kevin, jerking his head away from the door. Kevin moved away from it, picking up his copy of _In Search of Lost Time_. It was incredibly valuable to him, although he supposed his life was arguably more so, and he would be willing to use it to defend himself if needed.

Jake’s focus was solely on the door, now, gun pulled at peering out down the hallway. After a moment, he stepped back into the room, crumpling off his visitor badge and pulling out his detective one.

“Stay here, lock the door” Jake said, “Don’t open it for anyone except me.”

Kevin nodded, and caught the phone Jake tossed to him.

“Text Terry or Holt, get backup. Might not need it.” His tone implied enough.

Kevin began sending a text message to Raymond, as Jake slid out the door, closing it.

Kevin placed the phone onto his desk, walking over and latching it.

The bolt fell heavy, and he felt an odd, pressing sense of concern settling heavily upon him. He quickly picked the phone back up, completing the message and sending it.

It was off-putting, to see Jake go so serious. Kevin had only ever seen him goofing around, and his occasional bouts of seriousness were mostly due to him correcting mistakes he had made during his… shenanigans. Jake switching from banter to, quote, “Detective-mode”, so instantaneously had been more than a little surprising.

Kevin had always known logically that Peralta was a good detective, Raymond had said so himself, but it was another thing to see it happen in action.

No wonder Raymond valued his squad so much.

Kevin couldn’t imagine any of his coworkers having a relationship like that with him. He was pulled out of his unfortunate, and frankly self-absorbed, thoughts by Jake’s phone buzzing, screen lighting up. The lockscreen was a picture of Detective Amy Santiago and Peralta, both grinning.

Kevin ignored it, instead opting to read the message relayed.

_Dear Kevin Cozner, PhD._  
_I am sending the squad over immediately. Follow Peralta’s instructions._  
_Sincerely,_  
_Captain Raymond Holt, 99th precinct_

Oh no. Raymond was extremely worried. He hadn’t used his full title, ‘Captain Raymond Holt of the 99th precinct’, since he had been moved to the PR department.

Kevin hesitated, unsure of what his plan of action should be. Both Raymond and Peralta had been insistent on his staying put, but Kevin had never cared much for not knowing. In the end, he resolved to simply wait for Peralta to return, probably with some ‘witty’ commentary on whatever harmless event had taken place.

Kevin was lying to himself. He knew Debra Gisten, the receptionist. She had once closed a file drawer on her hand, broken four fingers, and merely blinked and said, monotone, “Ow.”

If Kevin had been attracted to women, he would have swooned on the spot.

As it was, it was quiet.

Kevin didn’t know how long he stood there before he heard faint speaking, too quiet for him to hear. He leant against the wall next to the door, listening intently.

The doorknob rattled.

“It’s locked.” Came Jake’s voice, loud enough to be heard through the heavy wood of the door. “Why don’t you put down the gun-”

Jake let out a cry of pain, and there was the sound of something heavy hitting against the door. Kevin jerked back from it, eyes going wide. With the phone still in his hand, he typed out a quick message relaying Raymond to hurry, Peralta was in danger, injured, as he dithered nervously at the door.

Kevin wanted nothing more than to pull Peralta inside, damn the consequences. He sounded hurt.

Jake’s voice came through the door again, tinged with desperation, and the slightest edge of pain, “Don’t. He’s a civilian. If you need a hostage, I’m a much better choice. Cop, see?” 

There was more speaking, quieter this time. Kevin felt his hands begin to become sweaty from nerves. He could have sworn he heard Raymond’s name, although there was a higher than likely chance that was him projecting.

“Tell him to open the door.” Came an unfamiliar voice. Most likely whoever had injured Peralta.

When Jake spoke, it was oddly detached. Resigned, even. “No.”

There was a moment of silence, and then, “Open the door, Cozner! Or I’ll shoot the cop.”

“Don’t Kevi-!” Jake’s voice shouted, odd detachment vanishing instantly into panic. His voice cut off sharply, and Kevin heard a choked off groan of pain.

Kevin was not about to stand here and listen to Jake get beaten to death. The unknown man was after him, not Jake, after all.

Kevin unlocked the door, and began to open it.

“No!” Jake shouted. Resistance pulled back against the door, trying to keep it closed as Kevin began to open it inwards.

“Close it Kevin,” Jake begged, “I’m not worth-”

There was a thump, and then Jake was stumbling into the room, crashing onto the floor. Kevin had just enough time to see the telltale red of blood, before the assaulter stepped into the room, gun trained on Jake, who seemed to still be trying to get to his feet.

The man kicked him in the head. Jake’s head was snapped to the side by the force of it, before lolling, somewhat limply, against the floor.

Kevin felt a bolt of concern - that looked exceptionally painful, not to mention the angle and force meant that Jake would most likely have become concussed - as Jake’s body went limp for a moment, and as the press of his face left streaks of blood across the floor.

The man turned to face Kevin, who put his hands up slowly, glancing in Jake’s direction. He seemed to still be trying to get up, face determined and surprisingly still aware, given the blood that was covering a good portion of his face. He was stumbling heavily, and Kevin quickly looked away, focusing his gaze solely on the person with the gun on him. He didn’t dare look at Jake - maybe if he didn’t, then the other man wouldn’t, either - but he felt a tension in his chest at the thought of if the man turned his gun on Peralta and finished the job. If Peralta was smart, he would get out of here. He was much too injured to possibly have a chance, and Kevin found he prefered Jake alive to the alternative.

There was a faint clattering sound coming from Jake’s vicinity, and Kevin began speaking calmly, trying to keep the man’s attention on him.

“I am Professor Kevin Cozner. You are?”

The man seemed relaxed, almost, now that he actually had Kevin in his line of fire. His gun, pointed squarely at Kevin’s face, didn’t waver, nor did his voice as he spoke.

“Name’s Walter Dern. Your husband arrested me, ruined my fucking _life_...”

Kevin resisted the urge to roll his eyes, as the man - Walter, evidently - began monologuing in such a method as to outmatch Hamlet. Still, he could make the reasonable assumption that audibly scoffing at said drivel would most likely end with his head being splattered on the wall - absolutely ruining the books behind him, for the record - and he wisely kept his mouth shut.

“... and now, I’m going to take something from him.” Walter adjusted his grip on the gun, and Kevin took a half-step back, as if the additional distance would give him a greater chance of survival - of course, it wouldn’t. Kevin wished he had given Raymond his regards via text, if only because there was a substantial chance he would not have the opportunity to do so again.

It seemed rather like Raymond was going to see his parents again anyway, at his funeral.

Suddenly, Jake piped up. “Hey! You’re after him ‘cause of Holt, right?”

Walter turned to face Jake, and Kevin felt himself grimace. The detective had had the chance to run for it. There was no reason for him to still be here, and certainly not be putting himself at risk.

“Killing Kev isn’t gonna… get back at him,” Jake said cockily, feigning bravado.

Kevin could see that his knuckles were white from gripping the desk so hard.

“They don’t even love each other.” Jake said, clinging onto the desk for support, “They’ve been fighting. Going to get divorced.”

Kevin’s eyebrows shot up, look of absolute aghastment on his face. Nothing of the sort was going to occur, and even with Peralta’s… mildly traumatizing past, he should still have the detective skills needed to figure that one out.

“Hurting Kevin is just doing Holt a favor, really.” Jake shrugged, eyes dead set on Kevin’s face, blood trickling down his face and dripping onto his shirt. “Holt’d be glad to be rid of him.”

Kevin felt a flash of understanding, quickly setting his face into one of annoyance. Of course. Jake was trying to stall and negotiate

“If that’s true, then I’ve wasted a trip.” Walter turned back around, face a mixture of frustration and anger.  
“Of course it’s true. We’ve been fighting nonstop for weeks.” Kevin said firmly. “He'd be overjoyed if someone got rid of me.” The words felt sour on his tongue, and Kevin was sure his tell - twitching fingers - was a dead giveaway for his obvious lies.

Kevin was certain that Jake was moving in the background, but Kevin’s entire worldview had narrowed down to the shining barrel of the gun aimed directly between his eyes.

“But yet, here it is. Raymond bringing home even more of his problems from work. Everything he does is about his job, even our relationship.”

His voice is edged with a hoarseness as he continues to speak, continues to try to buy time. Under normal circumstances, Kevin would not waste his breath on such trivial lies. The only reason Kevin bothered to speak, to put in the effort and difficulty of letting such painful inaccuracies of his husband slip off his tongue was because Jake was still in the room, still in danger.

Kevin would have allowed himself to die a long time ago, had it not been the risk of one of Raymond’s detectives dying, too. Especially since his husband did, after all, consider them family.

And, Kevin couldn’t help but admit to himself, he found he cared… mildly… for the young detective as well. Even now, with all of his injuries and all of his staggering around, covered in his own blood, Detective Jake Peralta was still trying to protect him.

It was admirable, if misguided.

Walter’s gun lowered slightly, and Kevin followed it with his eyes.

There was a blur of movement, and then Jake was tackling Walter, bodies crashing to the floor. Jake picked up the gun and threw it, smashing into the photo of Kevin and Raymond’s wedding.

Kevin didn’t have much time to worry about it, however, as Walter shifted out from underneath a now, absolutely limp, Jake, trying to get to his feet, cursing wildly.

Kevin felt a surge of protectiveness, and, without even being aware, he had picked up a book - _In Search of Lost Time_ , once again - and whacked Walter in the head with it.

Walter stopped moving, and Kevin dropped the book with a thud. The sound seemed to stir Jake slightly.

Kevin wasn’t sure if he had actually knocked out Walter, and elected to grab Jake by the back of the collar, dragging him away from the man, now sans weapon.

Jake started struggling against him, eyes open but unfocused.

“Close your eyes, Jake.” Kevin said brusquely, concerned as Jake’s eyes seemed to scan the room without taking in any actual information.

Once Jake was out of the immediate harm’s way - eyes momentarily closed - Kevin picked up the gun, unloading it and putting it into his dresser.

Jake moaned from his spot where Kevin had left him, and he turned around to see Jake watching him, eyes blurry. He was swaying, and his arms were shaky from the effort of holding himself propped up.

“I said close your eyes. You’re disoriented.” Kevin said sternly, feeling concern growing in his chest as Jake continued to look so painfully confused.

The look - lost, afraid - did not sit well with Kevin’s previous perceptions of the cocky, yet kindhearted Detective he had known in the past.

“The perp-” Jake slurred, making as if to get up.

In an instant, Kevin was pushing him back down - a remarkably easy feat, given his current state - as Jake’s eyes flitted around the room, vaguely focusing on the still form lying further away.

“He’s unconscious. Hit his head on the bookshelf. We’re safe.” Kevin didn’t explain that he had been the one to bring the bookshelf to Walter, so to speak, if only because he didn’t want Jake to get confused, or think he was still in danger.

Jake seemed to understand, and he nodded. That nod turned into a dip, and then Jake was falling aimlessly forwards. Kevin caught either side of Jake’s shoulders, keeping his head from colliding with the floor once more.

Kevin shifted Jake so that his back was resting against his desk. When he let go of Jake’s jacket, his hand came away red.

The blood from Jake’s head was still dripping brightly, overlying the cracking, muddyish shade druing underneath. Kevin’s initial assessment - the one kick to head - had quickly altered, as additional gouges became more and more apparent on Jake’s face.

One deep red line stretched across the side of Jake’s temple, with another line moving down and cutting just barely down near his eye. A rapidly bruising area surrounded a scrape near his hairline, and another bruising spot was on his cheek along his cheekbone.

Blood coated across nearly half of his face, and it continued to drip down, sluggish tracks making their way down the side of his face and continuing to drop off his chin onto his shirt collar, staining its edges. 

Kevin felt fear sink into his stomach as Jake remained still, chest rising and falling evenly. Even though Kevin had told him to close his eyes before, he found himself more and more concerned as the moments ticked by, and Jake’s eyes didn’t open back up. Kevin would take confused, disoriented Jake, over Jake who was covered in red and so agonizingly still.

Kevin’s fingers hovered over Jake’s bloody injuries, wanting nothing more than for them to be gone. His urge to somehow help was nearly overpowering, and Kevin idly wondered if this was what Raymond felt like about the detective, if this was the vague concept of parental emotions he had never pictured himself having.

Either way, it made Kevin’s heart physically ache in a way he couldn’t ever hope to describe in words.

As he inspected Jake’s injuries, trying to discern if he should wait for Raymond, or simply call 911 himself, Jake groaned, eyes squinting open.

Kevin felt a surge of relief at the sight, immediately shifting so that he was facing Jake more dead-on. His eyes still seemed unfocused, but he had enough awareness to recognize the man in front of him as Kevin.

He held up three fingers. “Peralta, how many fingers am I holding up?”

Jake blinked slowly. His head was tilted. “I don’t know.” he said after a moment.

Kevin felt his heart sink, and couldn’t hide the frown of concern from etching across his face. “I contacted the precinct already. They’re on their way, I instructed them to bring an ambulance for you as well.”

“Gonna take a trip. On the wee-woo machine.” Jake slurred.

“The… yes.” Kevin replied carefully. He wasn’t sure if that was a reference to one of Jake’s preferred movies, or if he was legitimately delusioned.

Something on Jake’s face seemed to change, and in an instant, he was trying to get up.

“The perp!” He said, fingers trying to push off of the floor for leverage. Kevin’s hands shot out, gently pressing Jake back against the desk.

“He’s taken care of. I told you already, he’s unconscious.”

The cloud in Jake’s eyes seemed to clear, understanding. “Oh, the bookshelf, yeah, I remember now.” He tried to turn his head to look towards the bookshelf, but quickly aborted the action, closing his eyes again,

“Peralta,” Kevin reached out, hand resting on Jake’s shoulder, where the damp blood was rapidly drying. “You saved my life. Thank you.”

“Hm?” Jake opened his eyes again, looking at Kevin with an odd expression, a sort of - if Kevin didn’t know any better, he would call it condescending - smile spreading onto his face. “Well, yeah, of course. Why wouldn’t I?” He said it with such oblivious innocence, as if the thought of saving himself hadn’t even crossed his mind.

In fact, Kevin reflected, it probably _hadn’t_.

Jake blinked up at him, smile creeping away to be replaced by one of a sort of… concern. Resignation, maybe. “You and dad aren’t actually getting a divorce, are you?” he asked softly, brokenly.

Kevin shook his head before the words were even finished out of Jake’s mouth. “No, absolutely not.” he said sharply, indignant at even the thought. He quickly reigned his unwieldy emotions back in, not wanting to cause Jake undue distress. He was, after all, most likely severely concussed, and Kevin’s anger stemmed more from nerves than anything else. He softened his voice, “I was merely following your lead, as it were.”

Jake muttered “cool” under his breath a half dozen times or so, and Kevin was about to wonder if he was having a seizure when he added, “Then… why were you fighting?”

Kevin grimaced. He hadn’t intended to discuss this with anyone outside of Raymond. It was, after all, personal business. But Jake was still blinking unevenly up at Kevin, and he found he couldn’t bring himself to deflect. Even if Jake would let him get away with it.

“It’s… complicated.” He finally admitted. “I want to try to introduce Raymond to my family again, while his insists that it will end… like the last time we attempted it.”

“What happened last time?” Jake asked, lifting his arm directly towards the open wound on his temple. Kevin pushed it back down to his side patiently.

“My parents blamed Raymond for turning me gay with his, quote, “magic genetalia”.” Kevin couldn’t help the edge of frustration from creeping into his voice. “I want to give it another chance, he does not want to risk being insulted by them.”

“Are you sure that’s why he doesn’t want to? Maybe it’s ‘cause he doesn’t want you being told that you’re redeemable from gayness or whatever.” Jake said, eyes now fixated on Kevin’s jacket sleeve.

“What?” Kevin asked sharply.

“I mean like… with Amy, I was upset that they were making fun of me and stuff, but what really sucked was that they kept saying that she could do better, or that she would realize she was making a mistake. Maybe it’s just he doesn’t want that. Or something.” Jake’s voice was progressively becoming more and more slurred, and Kevin acknowledged the words, struck silent, even as his concern for Jake grew, somehow, even further.

“NYPD!”

Kevin was grateful to hear Raymond’s voice in the din. He turned to face the doorway, seeing his husband enter the room, gun drawn, the precinct team falling in behind him.

Kevin moved to stand up, speak to Raymond, but Jake’s hand gripped his jacket sleeve, pulling him back.

“Don’t go.” Jake said breathily, “I can’t tell what’s happening.”

“I’m right here, Jake.” Kevin said, quickly moving back to his previous position, keeping his grip firmly on his shoulder. Jake’s eyes were closed again, and he seemed disoriented.

“Kevin! Peralta!” Raymond made his way to them, as Jake choked out a low moan of pain. Kevin placed a finger to his lips, lowering his voice as he replied. “Raymond.” Kevin acknowledged, “I am unhurt. Jake has sustained several injuries.”

The pair exchanged a desperate handshake - Kevin had rarely been so grateful to have his husband’s hand in his own once again, forget PDA and discretion. Raymond seemed the same way, obvious concern on his face from the way his eyes were slightly opened and his right cheek had a slight additional crease to it. Both of them gripped each other’s hands quite tightly.

“Dadptain.” Jake muttered, next words being swallowed up into a moan of pain. Raymond crouched down next to Kevin, gently turning Jake’s head to inspect the injuries. His expression changed, mirroring the heavy concern that Kevin shared.

“Field is secure. Officer down.” Raymond spoke into his radio, as he then moved to inspect Kevin’s eyes for injuries as well. He didn’t resist, knowing that it would put his husband at ease to verify he was unhurt, regardless of what Kevin himself said on the matter.

Kevin felt Jake’s grip shift. It was ridiculously weak, and Kevin didn’t doubt that a small breeze could remove it from his jacket. Still, he made no attempt to remove it. Jake was heavily injured, and it seemed as if his presence was the only thing keeping him awake and alert at the moment.

“Are you hurt?” Jake asked, “Why’re they getting medics?”

“For you, Jake.” Kevin replied softly, trying to make his voice sound reassuring. It didn’t seem to make Jake relax any further.

“But what about you?” He asked again, “Safe?”

“I’m safe, Jake.” Kevin replied.

After that, Jake was silent for a moment. Kevin wondered if he had lost consciousness.

Medics came in, and set down a gurney, preparing to shift Jake onto it. The moment their hands touched him, however, he came alive, trying to twitch out of their grip, eyes still screwed shut but voice loud, cracking.

“No, no, I have to protect, I have to… Kevin, need to keep him safe, I can’t go, I need to…” Jake broke off into a groan of pain as one of the medics tilted his head back, to avoid the blood from continuing to drip into his eye.

“Jake, I’m safe.” Kevin reassured.

Jake didn’t budge.

Kevin felt a hand on his own shoulder, and looked to see Raymond. His husband gave him a look of understanding, before speaking.

“Jake, you did an excellent job. Kevin is safe, he’s with me. The perp is secured. Everything is fine.”

“Kevin.” Jake slurred, opening his eyes and staring at him.

Kevin felt like Jake, even with his unfocused eyes and the pain etched across his face, could see into his soul.

Kevin wondered what Jake saw that made him so intent on protecting him.

Jake nodded, hand dropping from Kevin’s jacket, and muttered, “Safe,” before his eyes slipped closed, and his body went limp against the desk.

Without the resistance, the medics made quick work of moving Jake onto the gurney, one of them trying to pry Kevin’s hand off of his shoulder.

Kevin resisted the action, grip resolute on Jake’s jacket, until eventually they just unzipped the jacket off of him, leaving Kevin sitting next to splotches of blood, holding an equally bloody piece of Jake’s clothing in his hand.

Raymond’s hand on Kevin’s shoulder was firm.

“He will most likely recover fully.”

Kevin nodded, fingers still clenched tightly on his jacket.

After a moment, he cleared his throat, getting to his feet, picking up the picture of Cheddar as he did so and placing it back onto his desk, which now had flecks of blood splattered across its surface.

“Raymond,” Kevin said slowly, evenly. His voice felt detached from his own body. “We are going to have to postpone our meeting with my parents. I believe our… immediate family… is the priority.”

Raymond’s mouth twitched into a smile, momentarily clearing the heavy concern that laid there.

“Indeed. He is.” Raymond glanced around the room, watching as his team effectively secured the scene.

“I will drive us to the hospital.” He said after a moment.

Kevin nodded, already moving towards the door.

It was strange, how quickly his room had turned into a crime scene. How quickly Detective Peralta had turned into an injured family member he was intent on visiting.

How quickly Jake had been willing to die, for the sake of him.

Kevin swallowed hard, falling behind Raymond as the pair walked to the police car.

He found himself wanting nothing more than to shake his husband’s hand, and see his… well, son, again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kevin pov sequel, as requested! I may make a third chapter in the hospital, if there's interest in it. <3
> 
> Kevin is interesting to write because he's not as stoic as Holt, but still sort of formal. I think I landed his tone, but I'm not sure. Also, comments are my lifeblood, so please! I love Kevin, and i want validation for choosing to focus on a side-character :D


	3. Chapter 3 - Hospital Scene

Holt was mentally preparing himself to a brutal row with the attending nurse at the front desk before he even arrived at the hospital. He had a deep appreciation for nurses, of course, but they had a tendency to not allow him to do what he wanted, which could be quite frustrating. Holt was determined to visit his injured Detective as soon as possible, though hospital staff could pose a challenge, and delay this endeavor.

He kept these thoughts to himself, however. His husband, Kevin, was still quite vacant, and holding Peralta’s jacket in his hands, seemingly oblivious to the illogicality of the action.

Holt was moved by the image, yet was also somewhat confused by it. As he approached the challenge of the desk before him, his eyebrows furrowed. Kevin had not previously shown any particular affection towards Jake. On the contrary, it was in fact a major point of contention between them that his husband did hold the particular detective in such low regard.

He got along magnificently with Gina, a move that Holt had been expecting entirely, and appreciated Amy from a, quote, ‘fellow academia-focused individual’. He had found Rosa to be highly respectable, and complimented her on her decorum, and he approved of Jeffords as a professional and as a loving husband - even if his incessant talking about his children did cause some slight boredom, as Kevin readily admitted. Even Boyle, who had a penchant for talking in sexual innuendos and his focus on food, which Kevin found slightly more palatable than Holt, but only by a small degree, was able to bond with his husband, mainly over incredibly specific historical tidbits centered around said food.

But Jake… Kevin had never cared for Jake. His blasé personality, his incessant grinning - “like a con man, Raymond, a con man” -, his lack of respect, his inappreciation of anything even remotely of quality, his obvious childishness, his unending need to prove himself… all of these were reasons Kevin gave, one by one when Raymond had finally asked him, late one night after admitting to being stabbed, after Jake had left and Kevin had put on his upset music - Mahler’s Symphony No. 9 in D.

Holt had asked him to talk, and Kevin had become quite upset, and essentially tore apart every minute aspect of Jake’s character, laying out their flaws one by one.

It was impressive, if disheartening.

That image, of Kevin with his chalkboard lecturing Holt on the specific subsets of each main problem in their living room contrasted wildly with the image he now saw before him.

As it happened, Holt did not have to engage in a vicious battle, as the nurse politely informed him that, in fact, he was still listed as one of Peralta’s emergency contacts, and allowed them both through without resistance.

And thus, Kevin and Holt ended up sitting, ramrod straight, in matching chairs in the visitor’s waiting room. He felt a slight pressure at his side as Kevin pressed his arm against his, utilizing the armrest.

Holt felt his eyebrows raise. Normally, he would never condone such an act of PDA, however he believed that it was permissible given the circumstances.

Holt was loathe to admit, but he too felt appreciation at the action, as he himself had been quite distressed at the thought of losing both his husband and his… son.

To know that the perp had done this because of him only served to make his emotions on the matter worse. Of course, it was not his fault, naturally, but it did leave a sour taste in his mouth that so much harm could befall his husband, a _civilian_.

Kevin had explained, monotoned and concisely, what had occured, and Holt felt both pride in Jake’s work, and distress over the harm that had befallen his detective.

Soon enough, however, the pair were being led to another room. Holt stepped into the room, as he felt Kevin hesitate outside the entryway.

Jake was laying on the bed in the center of the room. Stitches and tape covered the wounds on his face, and someone had cleaned the blood off of him. His chest rose and fell rhythmically, and, despite being unconscious, he looked exhausted.

He heard a slight sigh from Kevin, and turned around, deeply concerned. Kevin was staring at Jake, utterly unmoving. Only the tension in his shoulders - and of course, the intense sigh - gave away his distress.

“Kevin, perhaps we should discuss matters. You appear distressed.” Holt said, sitting down on one of the chairs by Jake’s side.

Kevin blinked, and then he was moving to sit down as well, small frown appearing on his face. “Yes, I suppose I wasn’t doing a good job of hiding it.”

“You were atrocious.”

Kevin’s mouth twitched upwards. “Undoubtedly.”

Holt remained silent, waiting for him to speak.

“Raymond,” Kevin said, “I am… concerned for Jake’s well-being.”

A first-name basis? Truly, Holt could feel his familial worlds colliding quite rapidly. He found he was relieved for it.

“While he initially reached out to me to do his normal… shenanigans, once danger became apparent I witnessed him take on his role as detective, and do his job to the utmost degree. Raymond,” Kevin’s voice took on an edge, “He was willing to die rather than let harm near me. I heard that man _beating_ him, and he still fought to keep the door from opening.”

Raymond nodded somberly. It was true that Jake, despite his childishness, was a truly excellent detective. As well as his having a borderline masochistic self-sacrificing instinct.

“What could I have ever done to deserve that?” Kevin asked, “For him to decide my life was… worth his.”

“It is his nature to see the best in everyone - even when they do not see it in him.” His words were a reprimand, but lacked any venom behind them. Still, Kevin seemed to withdraw even further at the words, and Holt felt no small amount of instantaneous regret over his choice of wording.

Kevin was still holding the jacket like a lifeline. “Had he died, at that moment, my last words with him would have been one of scorn. And yet, he… fought.”

They lapsed into silence for a bit, save for the steady beepings of the medical devices attached to Jake.

After 23 minutes, Kevin spoke again. “We need to talk about visiting my parents.”

Holt stiffened. This, again? And, what is more, while Peralta was essentially sprawled out before them, injured?

Kevin, seeing Holt’s rising indignation, cut in.

“Peralta - Jake,” He corrected himself, “Was speaking to me about it, before…” He grimaced, before continuing. “He believed that perhaps your issue with our visiting my parents comes from a concern over how they would treat my decision to be one worthy of regret, as opposed to the risk of insult.”

Holt blinked. “Well, naturally that is the case. While I admit being told that my genitalia has magical powers is incredibly scientifically improbable, my main point of concern has always been their treatment of you.”

Kevin’s eyebrows furrowed. “I had not had that impression.”

Now, Holt frowned openly, mouth twitched downwards. “I have dealt with commentary over my sexuality for much of my adult life, I - quite frankly - do not care if your parents do not approve of me. I only ever cared about if you did, and the fact is that they have the ability to make it… so that you don’t.”

“That is highly improbable - no, _impossible_ \- Raymond.”

“I know as much, rationally. However, I have found that…” Holt grimaced, “... emotions do not always confine themselves to a rational schema.”

Kevin looked pained. “I never intended for that to be the case. We do not have to visit them, if you don’t want.”

“No, no, we should.” Holt shook his head. “I have my family with the precinct, it is unfair of me to deny you yours.”

“Your family would never treat me the way my family treats you.” Kevin said sharply, immediately.

Holt blinked, surprised at the outburst.

Kevin turned to face Holt, seeming to truly focus in. He had said the words automatically, and he knew them to be true. “Your family is comprised of brave detectives, who work hard and treat you, and everyone around them, with respect. We aren’t visiting my parents - they are not my family, anyway. Not anymore, not since a long time ago.”

“I understand.” Holt nodded. “This decision is a weighted one.”

Their conversation was interrupted by a groan.

The sound of Jake in pain seemed to send a jolt through Kevin, who immediately turned, body tensing once more.

Jake was squinting against the light, bringing up one hand to shield his eyes as he shifted himself up. He was heavily sedated, Holt knew, mainly due to concerns over police officers… reacting poorly to hospital rooms.

His eyes scanned the room, and his face seemed to, well, not light up, but certainly brighten somewhat, at the sight of Kevin and Holt.

“Captain,” Jake nodded, then hissed in pain, regretting the action.

Kevin shot up at the sound, and Jake’s eyes immediately flicked over to focus in on the movement, concern crossing his features.

“Kev? You okay?” He asked, voice hoarse.

Kevin blinked, and then smiled. Holt was about to run for a nurse, as his husband was clearly having a stroke, when Kevin spoke. “You… you’re asking if I’m okay?” Kevin’s smile vanished immediately, and he looked embarassed by the outburst of emotionality. “You’ve been beaten, have a concussion, and are asking me-” Kevin cut himself off, voice a touch hysterical.

Oh no.

He was causing a kerfuffle.

Holt was staring at him like he’d just grown a second head which, given his current behavior, wouldn’t even surprise Kevin himself at this point. Obviously that was inaccurate, but, at the moment, Kevin found himself not particularly caring over the illogicity of metaphorical statements.

This detective, this… Jake, was so inconceivable. A day ago Kevin would have seen this as bluster, or immaturity. Now… all Kevin saw was the incredible level of compassion within the young man.

It was concerning, in fact, how quickly Kevin found himself caring about the man. He had always wondered how Jake had managed to worm his way into Holt’s affections, and… it seemed he knew.

Jake was still staring at Kevin, although his gaze had now fallen to the jacket.

“Is that my jacket?” He asked, blinking at it.

“I… It seemed I couldn’t bring myself to let go of it.” Kevin admitted, feeling the texture of the jacket rustle under his fingers, as he walked to the edge of Jake’s bed, placing it onto the side of it.

Jake smiled dopily, looking up at him. “Thanks, Kev. And… it means a lot to me.” Then, it dipped down a bit. “He shouldn’t have been there.”

“Obviously not, however, it appears that-” Kevin began.

“No, I mean… he shouldn’t have been able to get into your office.” Jake looked confused. “Why would you open the door? I told you not to. You could’ve been hurt, Kevin.”

“I didn’t have much of a choice.” Kevin admitted, “It was that or let you die.”

“Well, yeah, but… you could’ve died.” Jake was full-on frowning now. “He was going to shoot you, and all you had to do was stay safe.”

“That’s… I couldn’t do that.”

“Why not?” Jake asked simply.

Kevin glanced back at his husband, who was currently attempting to remain still enough to fade into the background of the wonderfully beige wall behind him. However, holt was watching him, waiting for a response.

“You matter to Raymond.” Kevin replied finally.

Jake seemed to deflate a little. “Oh. Right. No, cool, that’s cool.”

“Also…” Kevin admitted, “I find that you matter to me, as well.”

Jake was visibly taken aback, before a grin spread over his face, teeth biting down on his lip in an attempt to hide the obvious joy he felt at the sentiment.

Kevin found himself astounded that the appearance caused him to feel a swell of reciprocal happiness, and a sense of relief at Jake’s willingness to accept his overture.

Of course, Kevin doubted he was entitled to such acceptance - further evidence in how Raymond had found a family far beyond anything Kevin could ever hope to have - and the fact that it came from Jake, who seemed ready to accept anyone, did little to assuage said feeling of undeservedness.

If anything, it made him feel worse. Especially as Jake was still lying there, in a _hospital bed_ , injured and clearly in pain, and still looking up at him like Kevin had just given him the greatest gift of his life with a few short words.

Holt decided at this point to rescue his short-circuiting husband from the clutches of puppy-in-human-form Jake Peralta, standing as well.

“Jake,” He said, “I am proud of you. I would like to use this opportunity of consciousness to thank you for saving his life. You performed within the parameters of your job, and exceeded them as well. Additionally, you protected my husband. For that, I am intensely grateful.”

Jake gave Holt that same look he had given Kevin before, when he had said much the same thing - an emotion that Kevin now recognized as bemusement, mixed with a deeper emotion. He was almost tempted to call it relief, but that didn’t make sense.

It would only be a reasonable emotion to display if Jake was under the impression that he was going to be punished, rather than lauded, for his actions.

Kevin filed that away for future ruminations, while Jake’s expression clouded over with pain as he tried to sit up.

Holt stepped forwards.

“Peralta. You need rest.”

“Mm no, I’m good. Look, I’m fine!” Jake tried to wiggle his fingers, but they moved in tandem. “Oh.” He frowned at them. “That’d be the drugs kicking in.”

Then, Jake’s head flopped back against the pillow, eyes slipping closed.

Kevin blinked, surprised. “That was fast.”

Holt lifted his hand, showing that the morphine drip control was in his hand. “Yes, it was quite unexpected.”

Kevin felt the corner of his mouth twitch up, a warm smile to his husband.

Exhaustion was hitting him like a truck, all of his adrenaline vanishing. Now that he _knew_ Jake was alright, _knew_ Jake was fine, he felt himself practically collapse back into the chair, every ounce of energy drained from his blood.

Quite simply, he needed a nap.

It would be quite improper.

However, given all of the circumstances of today… Kevin decided that following basic decorum wasn’t particularly relevant.

Besides. He wanted to be alert for when Jake woke up, again.

With Holt by his side, and Jake sleeping soundly before them - Holt’s generous use of the drugs allowing some of the pain etched across his face to fade - Kevin allowed his eyes to slip closed.

Jake was safe.

That was all that mattered, right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as highly requested, a hospital chapter!
> 
> comments r great! <3

**Author's Note:**

>  _Total Request:_ if your taking requests; maybe Jake is up to his usual shenanigans and goes to see Kevin at the uni one day and they both end up taken hostage??
> 
> Thank you for your request! :D
> 
> I had fun with this fic, Jake angst is always a pleasure to write >:)


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